


where we got left to run

by lacunia



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Bruises, Implied/Referenced Car Accident, POV Outsider, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Truckers, mary isn't actually in this it's just like implied it's after her death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacunia/pseuds/lacunia
Summary: “Neil suits you.”This time it seems Belinda spooked him, as Neil slightly jolted. He stared at her again, and says in an odd, small voice, “It does?”Something inside of Belinda softens from the way something else lights up in Neil’s eyes and she nods, saying, “Yeah, Neil. It does.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	where we got left to run

The day was going fine before it started to pour with rain.

Belinda Johnson was a truck driver and had been one for around ten years. She was fortunately experienced with driving in the rain, but less fortunately experienced with the sight of seeing a truck crash during said rain, sparking this paranoia of the grey skies and slippery roads. It’s silly for her to have this new fear, as usually she’s stoic and grumpy and ‘old-man-ish’ (in her niece’s words), but yet the fear is there now, rooted and ingrained in her mind. Belinda had barely known Phil Smith, as he had been a mere acquaintance, so she hadn’t cried when she had gone to the funeral, but she did have nightmares about the scene of the huge truck sliding and causing a collision with two other cars for weeks. Her niece had begged her to give up the job after the crash, so now Belinda was on her last days before she fully retired from her life of trucking.

Belinda clenched her jaw and turned on the windscreen wipers, leaning forward over her steering wheel to glare at the sky in a silent _fuck you._ She leaned backwards again and drove as steadily as she could. Fortunately, the roads of California were particularly clear and vacant of other people right now, so if she did end up crashing in some form of twisted fate, Belinda would only be taking herself.

Or maybe not. Because as the wipers went up once, twice, thrice, Belinda managed to spot a form sitting on the side of the road, on the gravel sideway, a smudge of brown and black and grey.

She gnawed on her lower lip, squinted to make sure it was actually a person she was seeing and not some oddly shaped bush before a sigh left her. It was pouring rain now, and she knew they were probably getting soaked to the bone, and she knew they were going to ask for a ride.

It’s not that she didn’t _want_ to. It’s just that, well.

Belinda didn’t _want_ to. She wanted her last trip to be silent and not filled with the endless chatter she usually had to listen to from hitchhikers, because her niece had once given her a book on _morals_ and _ethics_ and _goddamn_ Belinda was trying to be nicer and not as gruff as she usually came off as. So, yeah, Belinda may not want to, but if the person asked for a ride then she would give them one because she was learning and growing.

As Belinda’s truck grew closer and closer, she awaited the inevitable thumbs-up. But there was…nothing. The rain pattered down on the small figure, and Belinda felt something pull at her heart strings. They were just sitting there, not even bothering to move to the other side of the road where at least trees could shelter them.

Perhaps it was the way defeat practically flew from their skin like a beacon of light, perhaps it was the moral book working its magic or perhaps it was just Belinda herself that made her pull over next to the person.

She pushed open the passenger seat, which was facing them, and called out over the rain, “You need a ride?”

And then the person looked up at them.

It was a boy. He looked young, but his mix-matched left brown and right blue eyes were much too glassy, too old. His face was haunted, and his cheekbones stuck out from most likely not enough meals. There was a black and blue bruise on the left part of his forehead, and another on his jaw, and even more running down the side of his right cheek. Dangerously dark purple bags seated themselves under his eyes, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead from the rain.

Still, Belinda forced her face to steel. Reacting might make him run, and Belinda didn’t want a kid running away in this forceful rain on her conscience.

“I’m on my way to New Mexico. That good for you?”

The kid blinked at her slowly before he nodded once and then again. He looked around as if noticing where he was for the first time, and Belinda noticed some dried blood running from the lower parts of his neck down into the beginning of his collarbone before his baggy black t-shirt blocked off the rest. He shakily got to his feet, favouring his right leg, and hunched slightly over in pain.

Curiosity burned inside Belinda, but she wouldn’t ask because, frankly, it wasn’t her business, and the kid would tell her what she needed to know if he wanted to. All she could offer right now was a ride, nothing more.

He picked up an extremely warn-out grey duffel bag that he had been sitting over and held it against his chest like a lifeline before he slowly stepped into the truck. He pulled the door closed immediately and the rain became muffled again. A distant rumble of thunder sounded. He smelled distinctly like smoke.

Belinda watched as he held the duffel bag impossibly closer to him before she started driving again, asking, “Where you headed to?”

The kid glanced at her and blinked once, twice, before answering with a calculated answer, “Millport, in Arizona. Thank you.” His voice was raspy and croaky, and Belinda, this time, felt worry course through her.

She reached down and opened the console box, where she produced an unopened water bottle and a packet of small chicken sandwiches. It was supposed to last her for a couple more hours, but her passenger clearly needed the energy right now. She closed the console box and placed the items on top, noticing how the kid watched her with impossibly firm attention and suspicion. Belinda wondered if he was suspicious about the food and water he himself hadn’t bought, or her hand close to him.

She tilted her head his way and returned her hand to the steering wheel and her gaze to the road, “Eat or don’t eat. If you want to see the food and water be bought, I can get us more things at the nearest convenience store, I don’t care either way.”

There was silence for a moment before the kid slowly reached for the items, and when Belinda made no move to stop him, he gingerly started to eat and drink, only using one hand so he could still nurse his duffel bag with the other. 

A few minutes after he finished eating, Belinda made a choice to break the silence, “You got a name, kid?”

His whole entire body tensed up even more, and Belinda almost cringed in sympathy because that could _not_ be comfortable with how beat up he seemed. He stared at her for a few beats, the look cold and strange because of his heterochromia.

“Have you?” His voice was still gravely, but the water seemed to have helped.

Belinda raised an eyebrow, “Belinda.”

For another few minutes, no reply was given, and Belinda didn’t ask him again. The boy turned to stare out the window and Belinda returned to fully concentrating. The rain was coming down harder now, and the inside of the truck was getting slightly colder.

“Neil.”

Belinda almost jolted, but she didn’t. She glanced at the kid, who was now facing the front of the truck and gazing at the road. A specific kind of determination was set in his jaw, and his hands were going white from how hard he was holding his bag.

“What?” Belinda asked.

“Neil,” He repeated, glancing at her, “You asked for my name.”

Belinda nodded, “That I did.”

Another few moments of silence. He was starting to look slightly seasick, and his eyes were going darker and darker by the second. Belinda felt compelled to say something to snap him out of whatever strange trance he was in, so she did.

“Neil suits you.”

This time it seems Belinda spooked him, as Neil slightly jolted. He stared at her again, and says in an odd, small voice, “It does?”

Something inside of Belinda softens from the way something else _lights up_ in Neil’s eyes and she nods, saying, “Yeah, Neil. It does.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride, but the tension slowly disappears, and the rain begins to clear up and the sky becomes a bright, bright blue. 

**Author's Note:**

> also belinda thinks neil has two different coloured eyes cause he's wearing one contact and hasn't realised ebfhkb


End file.
